


Pillow Talk

by Totoffle



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: One bed, two men, eight hours until the alarm. Neither of them can sleep and, well, maybe that's not such a bad thing.





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something that wasn't silly time travel adventures (er, let's not talk about how that's going), and found this in my massive list of WIPs! It's un-beta'd so mistakes are my own.
> 
> I started writing it way back in 2013, for the Take That Slash Secret Santa, but fell in love with one tiny element of it and decided to expand that instead (it eventually turned into [this fic here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4470380)). I couldn't bring myself to abandon this, and only recently decided to finish it off. It's has a similar theme to the other one, obviously, but that was porn with feelings and this is just silliness with some vague emotions and a brief smutty interlude. This one is set between The Circus and Progress, so maybe around 2009/2010.
> 
> Essentially it's just a bit of domestic Barlowen fluff, but there's nothing wrong with that ♥

-~-

**23:00 - Eight hours to go.**

Even with his eyes closed, Gary can still see the lamp glowing on the bedside table. If he hadn't been so tired he would've reached across and switched it off, but right now his limbs feel like lead so he has to put up with it. He also has to put up with the sound of pen alternately scratching against paper and clicking against teeth.

And then, as if that's not bad enough, there's a new sound and it's definitely the final straw.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up. Please. Stop humming, turn the light off and lie down."

Taking his time to finish the end of whatever it is he's been scribbling for the past forty minutes, Mark clips the pen to the top of his notebook and closes it. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing, but I've got an early start tomorrow and I need rest. I can't get any of it with you doing all that."

Mark pouts. "I was only writing some lyrics, I thought you'd be pleased."

Patting him on the knee, Gary smiles. "I _am_ pleased, honestly. But can't you do it in the morning when I don't feel like my eyes are gonna fall out of my head?"

"Yeah, of course. Sorry Gaz, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Don't worry about it love, let's go to sleep."

A silence descends for a minute or two, before Mark clears his throat.

"Gary?"

Gary grunts in response, in case using actual words lures Mark into starting a conversation. It's not that he doesn't love their chats, he just doesn't have the energy for one right now.

"Can you think of anything that rhymes with _apocalypse_?"

" _Mark_..."

"Sorry, sorry. G'night, Gaz."

They both turn onto their sides with their backs pressed together, and as soon as Gary closes his eyes he feels sleep claiming him, only this time there's nothing that'll get in the way. He relaxes into the mattress and lets out a gentle, relieved...

There's a shuffling noise coming from somewhere in Mark's vicinity. Gary sits up and switches on the lamp.

"What're you doing?"

Giving him a sheepish look, Mark indicates the pen and paper in his hands. "I thought of something that rhymes wi-"

"Mark." Gary gently takes the notebook and casts it to the floor, landing with a clatter somewhere by the wardrobe. "Please go to sleep, before I have to go in the spare room."

Hating being alone in bed, Mark concedes.

 

-~-

 

**00:00 - Seven hours to go.**

Just as Gary is finally drifting off, one arm wrapped comfortably around Mark's waist, a horrible screeching noise comes out of nowhere and scares the life out of both of them.

Once he's recovered from the shock, Mark sits up and reaches for his phone.

"Christ almighty..."

"Ooh, it's from Rob."

"Great." Gary rolls over so he can glare up at the ceiling and pretend it's their newly reinstated bandmate. He loves Rob to the ends of the earth (or at least he does _now_ ), but there's no excuse for disturbing his precious slumber, especially when he's got his pillow precisely how he likes it. "Doesn't he know what bloody time it is?"

"He's in LA."

"Yeah, and he's lived there long enough to know we're several hours in front, hasn't he?"

If Mark hears this, he chooses to ignore it. "He says he'll be flying over at the end of the month, and wants to make sure we're all free to meet. We can always shuffle things around, it'd be worth it to see him and chat about stuff. Howard'll be around, so we'll only have to track Jay down and we'll be all set. I'll say yes."

"Fine. And while you're at it, don't forget to tell him he's keeping a national treasure from getting his beauty sleep."

"Nah, he's not bothering me."

"Ha, funny. C'mon, hurry up."

"Let me finish this."

Curious as to what's taking so long, Gary pushes himself up onto his elbows and tries to see the words on the screen, but Mark holds it away from his line of sight. Before it's whisked away, Gary is fairly certain he catches the word _'grumpy'_.

"What're you writing?" he asks, reaching out in a pretty pathetic attempt at grabbing the phone from Mark's hand, and failing entirely. Well, his hand-eye coordination doesn't fare so well when he's tired (or ever, Howard would say). "You're complaining about me, aren't you?"

"Yes, and if you shut up I'll be able to do it a lot quicker."

Gary holds a pillow against his face. It doesn't help.

 

-~-

 

**01:00 - Six hours to go.**

"Cheers, babe."

"Y'welcome. We're down to the dregs of the proper milk, so I topped it up with UHT."

Taking a tiny taste of the hot chocolate Mark has so lovingly made for him, Gary tries his hardest not to grimace. "It's fine, thanks."

They drink in companionable silence: Mark gulping his down quickly, Gary sipping and secretly wishing he'd gone downstairs to do it. In all of their years together, Mark has never quite managed to get the hang of the proper milk-to-cocoa ratio.

"Well c'mon, drink up!" Mark says, brandishing his nearly empty mug in Gary's direction. "It'll be cold by the time you finish it. What's wrong, don't you like it?"

"I told you, it's fine."

"Gaz, _please_. How long have we been together? What is it? You can tell me."

"It's not the drink. Although it _is_ disgusting, sorry. But..."

"But what?"

"I can't do that anymore," Gary sighs, swirling the remains of his hot chocolate around in the bottom of the _Take That and Party_ mug Mark had opted for, probably in an attempt to make him laugh. It doesn't work, but Gary appreciates the sentiment. "Jump up in the air like that, like we used to. I mean, I wasn't much good at it then, but now I wouldn't even get more than a few inches off the ground. I'm getting old."

" _We're_ getting old," Mark corrects him.

"You're younger than me."

"Only a year."

"And a week."

Mark gives him a look, and Gary can tell he thinks he's being stupid. He _knows_ he's being stupid, but he can't help it.

"Does it matter?"

Gary sighs again. "Yeah. No. I dunno. Sort of, I suppose."

"What's brought this on?"

He isn't sure, he really isn't. In the grand scheme of things he knows it doesn't matter how old he is: the albums will still sell and the girls will still scream and he'll still have Mark to go home with at the end of the night, but it does weigh on his mind from time to time.

Shrugging, Gary tips his head back against the wall. Mark puts his cup down and gently plucks Gary's out of his hands, setting it on his bedside cabinet. Then he snuggles up to Gary's side, immediately (and in the way only Mark can do) making Gary forget all about being miserable.

"We'll get old together."

 

-~-

 

**02:00 - Five hours to go.**

Gary doesn't believe him.

"No _way_."

Mark nods sagely. "I'm telling you, she was after you."

"Bollocks. It was Howard she wanted, she was obsessed with him!"

"No, that was her brother. Remember, he had an intimate piercing he was _very_ keen for Howard to see?"

"That was a shared interest because of his nipple ring."

Mark raises his eyebrows. "It really wasn't, Gaz."

Gary tries to picture the girl in question, although the details are fuzzy after sixteen odd years. She had been perfectly pleasant and not bad looking, just a little bit strange. And she'd definitely had a thing for Howard, not him. Well, Howard and one other person, of course.

"She fancied you, too," he grins. "What am I saying - of course she did! Everyone did."

"Did you?"

"No." Gary lets the answer hang in the air for a few moments longer than is strictly necessary, to fully enjoy the confused expression on Mark's face. After a suitable amount of time, he gives him a gentle nudge in the ribs. "I was besotted, you dope."

Mark breaks out into one of his beautiful smiles, and jabs Gary back. "Bastard," he says, snuggling into Gary's arms. "You had me worried for a minute, there."

Pressing a kiss into his hair, Gary snorts a laugh. "I wouldn't have been if you weren't so perfect. It's all your fault, all of this."

He feels Mark chuckle against his chest.

"Fine by me."

 

-~-

 

**03:00 - Four hours to go.**

"You're being an idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot."

"I didn't _call_ you an idiot, I said you were _being_ an idiot. That's different."

Mark rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, Gaz. God, I fucking hate it when you patronise me."

Huffing, Gary rolls over onto his side, and pulls the duvet up to his neck. There's no point arguing when they're both in moods like this, even though the pair of them are fully aware he _hadn't meant it like that_. But they're both tired, and they're both grumpy, and it's starting to show.

One of them is going to have to apologise first, because neither of them wants to fall sleep (or try to) with an argument hanging over their heads, even something as ludicrous as this. Gary can't even remember what they'd been bickering about in the first place, other than it being completely pointless and unnecessary.

"I'm sorry," he says, to his half of the room. "You're not an idiot, _I'm_ the idiot. Forgive me?"

Mark considers it for maybe two seconds before shrugging.

"Okay, I forgive you," he says, turning so he's facing out of the bed. Gary quickly gets the hint and spoons up behind him, and a wave of peace washes over both of them.

Before Gary has the chance to nestle his nose into Mark's hair and breathe in his delicious scent, Mark has to ruin it.

"I still say he wasn't in _Highlander_ , though."

"In that case, you _are_ an idiot."

 

-~-

 

**04:00 - Three hours to go.**

He's running as fast as he can but he's not getting anywhere, and they're gaining on him in their hundreds, all carrying flaming torches and shouting...

Gary wakes up with a start, panting like he's run a marathon, his whole body frozen. When he manages to move enough to get a glimpse of the clock, he sees that he's only been asleep for about six minutes, and lets out a loud, frustrated groan.

This, of course, wakes Mark immediately.

"What, what?!" he cries, sitting up and switching on the lamp. "You okay? What happened?"

Gary fixes his eyes on the ceiling, feeling a bit silly and trying to get his heartbeat back to a normal pace. All the while, Mark stares at him, concerned. Then he lays a soft hand on Gary's forehead and frowns.

"You're sweating! What happened? Was it a nightmare?"

"I suppose. But I'm okay, it was nothing, really."

Mark doesn't look convinced, and it's probably because Gary's lying his arse off and they both know it.

"What was it about?"

"Oh, the usual nightmare stuff... Running away from something, not being able to move... I'm alright now, promise."

Knowing it's not worth pushing it, Mark lays down, but doesn't bother switching the light off again. He puts his hands behind his head and joins Gary in his observation of the ceiling.

"I had a weird dream once," he says, "where you were sitting on a tiny stool, trying to play a huge piano. This was years ago, when we first started talking about coming back, so it was probably a metaphor for something, wasn't it? I bet Jay could give me a good explanation for that one. It'll be me worrying that you're too good for us, or the stool represents the band and the piano is the audience, and we're all desperately trying to achieve something we can't possibly achieve. What d'you reckon?"

"Erm..." Gary chews this over for a moment. "What sort of piano was it?"

" _Typical_."

 

-~-

 

 **05:00 -** **Two hours to go.**

"No no no, extended puppy is like this."

Throwing the covers off, Mark gets out of bed and walks around to Gary's side. He gets down on the floor, his nose touching the carpet, his arms outstretched and his bum resting on his heels. He breathes in and out slowly, apparently trying to get into the yoga mindset as much as possible.

It's all very nice to look at, but it's wrong.

Gary stands up and folds his arms. "Who taught you to do it that way?"

Mark twists his neck uncomfortably in order to look Gary in the eye. "Lindsay."

"Well, Lindsay needs to go back to yoga school. You're not stretching your spine properly."

Straightening up, Mark puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side. "How would you do it, then?"

Loving a challenge, Gary steps forwards and crouches down. Sliding his arm under Mark's waist, he manoeuvres him so his face is on the floor again and his bum is in the air, his spine now being stretched adequately.

"There, like that."

Gary stands back and admires his handiwork. He could quite happily admire it for the rest of time, if he's honest.

"This bloody hurts," Mark says, voice muffled in the carpet. "Are you sure this is right? ...Gaz? _Gaz_?"

"Sorry. Distracted."

Mark sits, but doesn't stand. "Disgusting," he says, shaking his head. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"No," Gary tells him, offering a hand to help him to his feet. "Sometimes I think about keyboards."

"Of course."

"And sometimes I think about time signatures."

"Right."

"But mostly," Gary pulls him in close, "I think about you."

 

-~-

 

**06:00 - One hour to go.**

They don't go for the more complicated positions anymore, not unless they're both feeling extremely adventurous. It's too much like hard work nowadays, especially when they're sleep deprived and neither of them can be bothered to move more than is necessary.

They just about make it to the bed, Gary on his back and Mark on top for a bit of a change. Holding Mark by the waist, Gary encourages him to rock back and forwards, the soft light of the lamp giving Mark even more of a glow than normal. Gary wants to stay there and look at him forever.

"Gorgeous boy," he mutters, causing Mark to lean down and peck him on the lips. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Mark doesn't reply, but he doesn't argue, either. To be fair he's quite busy, otherwise he'd probably deliver a ten minute rebuttal on why _he's_ the lucky one, in actual fact. Except Gary doesn't think that's the case, especially as Mark knows precisely what'll get Gary going the most, what'll make him want more, what'll make him bend to Mark's will.

And Gary always fights it valiantly, trying _not_ to do exactly what Mark wants, but he's never succeeded and he's not sure if he wants to.

"You look good doing that," he says, giving Mark's hips a little pull and thrusting his own at the same time, making both of them shudder.

"I feel good doing it, too."

"Do it more."

Mark obliges with enthusiasm, and it isn't long before both of them are out of breath, dripping with sweat, and totally exhausted.

"Fuck," Gary says, his voice no more than a whisper. "If we ever get too old for this, I want you to shoot me straight away."

"Will do."

Much to Gary's disappointment, Mark slides off of him and collapses down on the bed.

"I ache all over now," he says, stretching. "Your turn."

Without even waiting for his lungs to return to normal, Gary hauls himself over Mark and gently eases himself in, sighing with relief as the familiar warmth returns. He doesn't want to move, but at the same time he can't help himself.

As he gets more into what he's doing, he gets faster and faster until Mark is moaning and begging for more, his fingernails digging into Gary's sides as he clings on for dear life. Gary doesn't hesitate in giving him what he wants, because not only will this tire them both out, it'll be so worth it in the end. It always, always is.

Mark comes first, Gary mere moments later, and they pant and laugh and talk gibberish, both finally tired enough to fall asleep.

 

-~-

 

**11:00 - Four hours late.**

Gary yawns, stretches, and tries to sit up. It doesn't work. Instead of getting annoyed about it, however, he grins and flops down onto his pillow.

_Result._

Unfortunately, this wakes Mark up as well. He blinks in confusion, before realising what's going on and pressing himself as close to Gary as he can.

"Morning."

"W'time is it?"

"About eleven."

"Oh." Mark pauses. "Missed the alarm?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," Mark says again. "Good." He snuggles further into Gary's armpit, wordlessly telling him: _yeah, you're not getting up for awhile, yet_. Gary has to wonder whether Mark kept him awake on purpose, but he's not complaining either way. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm," Gary says. "When I finally dropped off. You?"

"Not bad. Could do with a couple more hours, actually."

"Me too."

And that's all they need to come to an agreement they're both more than happy with. Mark grabs the duvet and pulls it over their shoulders, making himself comfortable against Gary as he settles down until at least lunchtime.

Before he nods off again himself, Gary reaches for his mobile and scrolls through it until he finds Mike's number. He hopes a one-word text will suffice, because he doesn't want to miss a single second of a rare lay in with Mark, and he's too bloody knackered to construct a sentence, anyway.

_Reschedule?_

He puts his phone on silent and throws it to the floor, relaxing into Mark's embrace and drifting off into a deep, blissful sleep.


End file.
